


The Hunt

by orphan_account



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: 1950s, Animal Death, Childhood, Gen, Language, q-slur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:57:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5206745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lost in the woods, Hanzee and Dodd try to find their way back to the Gerhardt homestead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hunt

“We’re lost.”

Hanzee was the first to acknowledge their predicament.

Dodd, on the other hand, was adamant that they could find their way back to the Gerhardt homestead, “We just need to go the opposite way we came.  Easy as pie.”

However, Hanzee wouldn’t budge, “You can’t use that sort of logic in a place like this.  Besides, we didn’t run straight through the trees, remember?  The rabbit zigzagged.”

Dodd had wanted to try out his new switchblade on something.  His brother, Ellron, bought it for him three months ago before he headed off to basic training, and he made him promise not to open the present until his actual birthday.  
  
When Dodd opened the small, gift-wrapped box at exactly at the stroke of midnight, he’d decided to keep the knife a secret from his mother, ‘ _She wouldn’t understand. I’m 13 years old. I can do anything I want now, pretty much.’_

He wanted to stab something that wasn’t inanimate, something that would _feel_ it.

Because his brother was still away in Korea, and he didn’t know anyone else who was willing to assist him in his violent mission, he’d asked Hanzee to help.

“That’s not a hunting knife.  This is what you need,” Hanzee issued his knife, sheathed in leather on his hip.

“So?  It’s _my_ knife, and I’m gonna use it however I want.” 

Thus, the two boys stood in the middle of the wood, attempting to lure a beautiful white rabbit to its death. They’d crouched stock still for so long, Dodd swore time had probably stopped.

“Why don’t you just jump on top of it? Ya know, like catching a chicken or something.  It can’t be that quick.  Look at it!”

No matter how much Hanzee lectured the Gerhardt on patience, Dodd would fidget and stick the ground with his blade in frustration.

Finally, he gave up, “I’m gonna do it.”

They were sat in view of the house, but once Dodd had taken off after the rabbit (and Hanzee had taken off after Dodd), they’d lost their bearings.

Light filtered through the spare few leaves still clinging to the surrounding trees, striking Hanzee with an idea.

“When you’re on the porch, where does the sun rise?”

“Rises over the cemetery.”

“So that would mean, the house is west,” Hanzee held out his arms, a human compass, “We need to head towards the sun.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!  Why would we go left when we need to go straight back?”

“The sun sets behind the house, so following the sun will lead us back.”

“You know what. Who’s on duty tonight? I bet if I yell, someone would come and get us,” Dodd cupped his hands to project his voice, but before he could cry for help, a hand covered his mouth tightly.

“Shhhh!  You don’t know what else is out here,” Hanzee cautioned, listening for any unfamiliar rustling in their surroundings. 

Dodd pushed Hanzee's hand away, “Well, I know there’s at least a rabbit out here. God, I wish Ellron were back. I coulda asked him to shoot it and not deal with all your goddamn waiting business.”

"Wait,” Hanzee heard footsteps (and Dodd rolled his eyes).  
A shock of adrenaline directed his line of sight to the nearest hiding spot, a tree hollow about 20 feet away from where they currently stood, “Something’s coming. Not a rabbit.” He grabbed Dodd’s hand, dragging and stuffing him through the narrow space.  Hanzee squeezed in second, very aware that if anything happened to Dodd on his watch, he’d be as good as dead.

“I swear if you keep touching me like that, I’m gonna tell dad you’re queer, then you’ll have to find another family to mooch off of.”

“Quiet.”

Peering out of the tree cautiously, the two boys spotted a mid-size deer, searching for any acorns covering the forest ground.

“How do you feel now, ya idiot?  It’s just a deer.”

In the very same moment Dodd had mocked Hanzee, a wolf ambushed the deer, ripping at its throat, pouring blood onto the autumn ground.

Hanzee unsheathed his hunting knife, and Dodd followed suit with his switchblade.  The deer had died almost immediately; there were no signs of movement from the animal besides residual messages from the nervous system causing a few eerie spasms. Instead of digging into the kill, the wolf howled, sending shivers up the boys’ spines.

“There’s only one, right?  We can take one,” Hanzee’s chest was filled with exhilaration. As long as they only had to deal with one assailant, they could handle themselves.  Two against…

Another, larger wolf crept into view.

Dodd sighed with apprehension, “That’s two. _Two_ wolves.  What are we gonna do?”

“Be quiet, for one.  And wait for them to leave,” the circulation in Hanzee’s knife hand was cut off from gripping the handle so tight.  If Dodd couldn’t _shut up_ , they’d be dinner for sure.

Dodd had a better vantage point of the situation, pressing his cheek into the tree to try and follow the action.  The larger wolf started to drag the carcass away, out of view of their crack in the tree.  While one wolf worked on the deer, the other’s hazel eyes surveyed the perimeter, wary of any other predators lurking in the growing shadows. An ominous silence followed.

“It looked at me!” Dodd gasped, reeling as far backwards into the tree as he could, “What do I do? It looked at me! It’s coming!”  And sure enough, the smaller wolf was approaching, slowly and suspiciously.  Once the wolf had recognized the boys as living, breathing threats or possibly as additional meals, it picked up its pace, ready for attack.  The gray beast leaped forward towards the crack in the tree, jaws wide, and caught hold of Dodd’s cap, while Dodd flung his knife wildly.

A high-pitched yelp issued from the wolf, a thick slice through its nose.  Hanzee followed up Dodd’s blow with his own knife, plunging through the top of the wolf’s skull with a satisfying crunch.

“I’m gonna charge the other one,” Hanzee yanked his knife out of the animal, wiping any chunks of flesh or brain on the pelt at his feet, “Once I have it on the ground, you stab ‘til it stops moving. Dodd!” 

“Yeah, I gotcha.  You sure you can—“

“I’m sure!”  Hanzee extricated himself from the confines of the tree. The larger wolf had noticed its partner’s absence and was already bounding across the clearing toward the two.  Just as the wolf leapt, Hanzee sidestepped out of its path, wrapping his arms around the animal’s thick neck and locking his legs around its waist. 

The wolf snapped its jaws dangerously close to Hanzee’s face, thrashing back and forth to break free.  He honestly couldn’t hold on for too much longer seeing as the wolf probably outweighed him by 10-20 lbs, but he could tell Dodd was tearing through the wolf’s vulnerable underside by the deeps growls and yelps he felt against his face in the animal’s throat.

After a few more tense moments, the wolf lay still on top of him.  Hanzee shoved the weight off his body and rose, victorious and for once, grinning.  Dodd didn’t share the sentiment.

Red pooled at the end of the switchblade’s edge, dripping onto Dodd’s boots.  The innocent pitter-patter almost sounded like rain.  He stared at what he was failing to register as blood.

“Are you hurt?” Hanzee looked over Dodd for signs of damage from the fight, but nothing betrayed pain except for the expression on his face.

“Do you have memories that are sorta like bruises that won't go away?   Always sore…”

Hanzee wasn’t sure if he was actually supposed to answer the question.

Dodd’s throat was tight, unsure of the following words, “Hanzee…have you ever killed anyone?”

“Yes,” Otto had taken him on car trips, which he later learned were jobs.  They’d tie men up, and Otto would show him which places on the body hurt the most, how much you could cut off until the man talked or died.  He wasn’t about to tell Dodd any of this; it didn’t exactly feel—appropriate. 

“Me too,” with this admission, Dodd’s voice cracked, “Dad took me to the theatre about a year ago.  Gave me a knife, said there was a real dangerous guy who was gonna try and kill him.  Told me to jam it into the guy’s neck,” a couple tears leaked down his cheeks, “I did it…they had a gun on dad!  I had to!  The sound…” He’d never told anyone this before.  Not even Ellron.  Something held him back, preventing him from bragging about it.

“You remember the last time he breathes. Then he’s quiet. Still,” Hanzee recalled the first time Otto had shown him how to slice a man’s throat clean, pulling the blade across the neck hard enough that he was sure to bleed out quickly. This particular man had been pleading on the behalf of his family the whole time…Otto had mentioned something about him owing money.  Hanzee cut the man’s throat with Otto's instruction and heard him gurgle, struggling for breath, rocking back in forth in his chair until he was finished.

Dodd stepped forward and pulled the slightly taller boy in for a hug, in reality wanting comfort from his mother that he couldn’t achieve without revealing to her what he’d done.

All this took Hanzee by surprise, especially with the previous protestations from the other boy about physical contact. He returned the hug in a perfunctory fashion, loosely holding Dodd’s waist. 

“I’m not weak!” Dodd cried, in more pain than he would have been if his legs were sawed off, “I’m a Gerhardt!”

“You’re not weak," and Hanzee meant it.  The two lifeless bodies on either side of them attested to that.

Dodd pulled away with renewed confidence, wiping his nose on his sleeve loudly.  The early evening wind stung their cheeks, and Hanzee noticed the shadows had grown much longer since they first realized they were lost.  Ever practical, he took Dodd’s knife gingerly from the other boy’s hand and wiped the blade on the coat of the freshly dead wolf. After this, he retrieved Dodd’s leather cap, noticing some scuffs on it from their brush with the forest predators.

He handed the knife back to its owner and placed the cap on his partner’s head.  In the few years he’d lived with the Gerhardts, Dodd had never offered him a kind word, only furtive, cross glances.  But as the waning light cast over the dead around them, Dodd gave him a full smile, patting the side of his arm in fun, “Thanks, Hanzee."

They didn't tell anyone about the wolves.  

They snuck around to the side of the house with the water spigot, washing off the blood from their hands and faces.  Laughing like friends with a secret.


End file.
